


Adult Supervision

by Jabberwakkawakka



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Boners, Costume Kink, Costumes, Edging, F/M, Grinding, Lapdance, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Sex Is Fun, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabberwakkawakka/pseuds/Jabberwakkawakka
Relationships: Clint Barton/Greer Grant Nelson
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

*Ding dong!*

Tigra waited patiently outside the doors to the new West Cost Avengers facility, though her tail waved around restlessly as if it had a mind of its own. Finger by finger, she tightened her grip on the handle of the duffle bag she was carrying. Her ever-perceptive feline eyes darted around the nearby area, and as usual, everyone who strolled by couldn’t take their eyes off of her. She figured that, as was the case everywhere she went, the people passing by had never seen a scantily clad werecat before. Then again, a few months ago no one’s favorite mad scientist, M.O.D.O.K., had turned her into a 60-foot-tall monster and brainwashed her in to wrecking havoc on the very neighborhood she was standing in now.

“Yeah,” she muttered to herself, “*that* probably made the local news.”

The doors finally swung open, saving Tigra from those prying eyes that made her feel more exposed than the sports-bra/short shorts combo costume she was wearing. Waiting in the doorway was Hawkeye... just not the Hawkeye she came to visit.

“Kate! Long time, no see!” Tigra beamed as she swept the young archer into her embrace.

“Good to see you too, Greer. How’s William?” Kate asked.

“Still the most precious little pain in my ass ever. Doreen’s babysitting back east.” 

“Yeah, she’s great with kids. So, what brings you back here?”

“Oh, Hawkeye- Clint- and I have been texting back and forth about what’s going on with the new West Coast Avengers, and we both figured that this team could use a little more… adult supervision.”

“‘Adult supervision’, huh? You do realize I’m 21, and the others aren’t much younger. I mean, you’re more than welcome to run with us if you want, but we’re pretty damn good at handling things ourselves. Collectively, we been through a metric ton of shit and made it out alive.”

“Aaaand I definitely don’t doubt that. I know a thing or two about being underestimated, seeing how often the Daily Bugle likes to describe me as a ‘D-lister’ in the rare occasion that my name pops up. But Clint kinda just wants… You know, someone else from the old guard?”

“Alright… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you but I don’t-”

“Look, he wants company his age to… do the things you do with people your own age,” Tigra blurted out bluntly. If her face had been covered in skin instead of fur, it would’ve been red rather than orange.

“Oh. OH!” Kate’s eyes widened and she raised her hands, as if to surrender the conversation. “Okay, okay. I think we’re on the same page here. The same… gross… page. I mean, not *gross* gross! I’m a pretty sex-positive person, but- Yeah, he’s in his room down that hall.” Kate anxiously pointed a finger in Clint’s direction, obviously not wanting to dwell on the subject of his sex life. “Now, I’ve got a kitchen thing to do… in the kitchen. Gotta go.” With that thinly veiled attempt to abort her talk with Tigra, Kate rushed off.

Silently, Tigra began to make her way down the hall when some kind of grey, hairless creature bolted past her feet with a black cable in his mouth. Suddenly, a pink-haired gangly teen burst into the hallway, flying past Tigra in pursuit of the fleeing critter.

“Jeff! Jeff, don’t eat that, buddy!” The teenager pleaded, disappearing around the corner. Tigra tried to recall his name, but could only remember that he was a mutant- an ex-X-Man with crazy brain powers who had helped restore her back to normal during the “Kaiju incident”.

But that didn’t matter. After a lengthy plane trip and an awkward Uber ride from the airport, she was finally at the fun part: standing outside Clint’s door and ready to blow his mind- among other things.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was lying on his bed, idly scrolling through Twitter, when he heard a knock on his door. His eyes widened and he immediately shoved his phone into his pocket, sitting up as a delightful tingle ran down his spine.

“Come in.”

Quietly, the door gently opened and Tigra strode in. She wore a Cheshire grin as she slowly closed the door behind her and locked it.

“Mommy’s home,” she declared as she turned around and made her way towards Clint. When she reached the bed, she stopped and leaned in as close to archer as possible without physically touching him. He could practically feel the hot, sexual energy radiating from her body, splashing against his skin and making him sweat. Tigra took in a deep whiff. “I’ve smelt those same pheromones on countless missions with you. You’ve been a good boy, waiting all those years to play with *this* pussy.”

Clint let out an obviously forced snort.

“Cat puns?” he smirked, trying to hide his growing weakness for the werecat.

“That wasn’t intended and you know it,” Tigra playfully snapped. She threw her duffle bag onto the ground, hopped on Clint’s lap, and pinned him down. Already, his dick was becoming erect, growing hard against her thigh. Tigra raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Is that an arrow in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she whispered in his ear.

“I’m very, very happy to see y-”

He was cut off when Tigra went in for a long, sloppy kiss… then another… and another. Her hands dug beneath his ass and she tightened her grip one finger at a time. Following Tigra’s lead, Clint planted his hands firmly on her hips.

“Wow Barton, that’s quite the stiffie you’ve got going on down there. Don’t get too excited just yet. I’ve got the whole night planned out, and it’d throw everything off if you blew too soon.”

“Please. I’m an expert marksman. If there’s one thing I know, it’s control.”

“I don’t know about that.” Tigra began to rotate her hips, making Clint’s dick swell even faster. “It won’t take much for me to get you to ‘fire your arrow’ too soon.” With a quick kiss, she dismounted her over-stimulated lover. “But first… I wanna play a little game of dress up.” Tigra bent over to unzip her bag and remove its contents, and Clint eagerly watched her plump ass wiggle as she did. Her tail swung back and forth as if to wave “hello”. “See something you like?” she asked, not even looking back at Clint.

“How did y-”

“I mean, you’re not going to ignore a thick, juicy milf ass when it’s being waved in your face, are you Clint?” Tigra pulled out a purple and blue outfit and flung it over her shoulder, right into Clint’s hands. “Now, strip down and put that on.”

“Heh heh,” Clint chuckled to himself. “My old costume. Where’d you find this, Greer?”

“Wanna feel old?”

“Considering the way the kids laughed the other day when I asked if there were any funny Vines going around, no, not particularly.” Tigra ignored him.

“It was in a local museum. Along with this.” She pulled out a bit of black string with fangs attached to it. Clint’s immediate thought was that it was some kind of necklace, but he quickly felt like an idiot when he recognized it as the tribal-inspired thong that made up the lower part of Tigra’s old costume. Her other hand jerked out the second half of the outfit: a tiny matching bikini top that always seemed to struggle to contain her mammoth mammaries. “I pulled a few strings to borrow them, because technically they aren’t our property anymore. There was an Avengers charity auction a few years ago and some collector got them. Anyways, they’ve just gotta be returned in the same condition we received them in.”

“Considering how these things are with washing machines, I’m not sure it’s a brilliant idea to-”

“Strip, Clint. Besides, you shouldn’t have to worry about things getting too, messy, right Mr. ‘If-There’s-One-Thing-I-Know-It’s-Control’?” She flashed a fanged smile at Clint, and it was enough to remind him who the alpha was…

“Okay, okay…” he muttered, taking off his shirt. By the time he’d pulled it over his head, Tigra was already topless. Clint had basically seen her breasts before, due to her original costume covering little more than her nipples, but seeing them hang out completely was enough to leave him struggling for words.

“You know, I’m pretty sure they’re slightly bigger in my cat form,” Tigra purred as she pushed both tits together and let go. The way they jiggled had an almost hypnotic effect on Clint. “I really don’t know why being enchanted with feline physiology would give me heftier boobs, but you know what they say about gift horses…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Clint replied stupidly.

“I bet you’d like to touch them,” Tigra continued, “but you’ve gotta get dressed first.”

“Of course, of course. Gotcha.” Clint immediately began to shed his pants, revealing the budge in his boxers and a tiny precum stain. He struggled with the elastic waistband, futilely trying to pull it over his massive hard-on. 

“Looks like you could use a little help there,” Tigra purred. The werecat slowly approached Clint and bent down so that her face was at the same level as his crotch. She pointed a single finger at it and popped a claw, causing Clint to instinctually flinch. “Loosen up, Barton.” She slashed the elastic band, causing Clint’s erection to escape his underwear and slap against his belly. Tigra rose so that her face was at the same level as Clint’s, but she couldn’t manage to take her eyes off of that throbbing cock. “Now get in the spandex, sharpshooter.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Well,” Clint muttered as he pulled his mask over his face, “the suit’s a bit more snug than I remember it being.” He was now clad in his classic purple and blue costume, which was so tight it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. If anything, it seemed to draw even more attention to his monstrous erection.

“Well, that’s something we can agree on,” Tigra purred. Her nipples were clearly visible through her bikini top, and every attempt she made at readjusting her bottom was in vain. “God, was the camel toe *always* this pronounced?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Clint couldn’t help but grin as he sat down on the bed. It was an obvious indicator that he was being less than truthful. “I *never* took my eyes off of Bobbi. Never.”

“Clint, you can’t lie for shit,” Tigra laughed as she sat on Clint’s lap. His hard-on was positioned right between her plump ass cheeks. “I have no idea how you lasted a single day in SHIELD. You’ve got to be the worst secret agent in the history of secret agents…” She wiggled a little with lustful anticipation, and the friction made Clint’s cock swell even more.

“Look Greer, I happen to be very good at shooting arrows.”

“Oh,” Tigra continued to tease, “is that so?”

“Hell yeah. I’m fucking Hawkeye, remember?”

“Oh, is that why you have an H on your forehead? Here I was thinking it stood for something else…”

“W-What did you think it stood for?” Clint stuttered, failing to follow the frisky feline. Tigra looked back over her shoulder, flashing her emerald eyes at the archer.

“‘Hunk’? ‘Hot’? ‘Humongous’?” Tigra slowly began to rub her ass back and forth against Clint’s dick. “‘Hard’, maybe?” She reached back, grabbed both of Clint’s hands, and guided them to her hips. He gripped onto them while she quickened the pace of her rhythmic grinding, as if he were hanging on for dear life while his euphoria rose. Tigra chuckled. “I can smell you sweating under the costume. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Clint croaked. “I- I’m fine.” He was actually far, far beyond fine. The archer could feel raw pleasure rushing though him as Tigra kept thrusting her ass against his loins. He felt a tingling in his balls and static in his mind as he fought his own body for control. The battle was futile though. There was nothing he could do to slow himself from racing towards that peak.

“Really? Because it seems like you’re gonna blow your load… and you’re gonna do it in that costume… You better not make a mess, big boy.” The mere mention of how was dangerously close the archer was to cumming in the costume pushed him closer to the point of no return. He tried to specifically not think about ejaculating then and there, but it only got him more excited. Tigra curled her tail around Clint’s waist, as if to confirm that there was no getting off this ride.

“No,” Clint breathed defiantly, as though he had something prove. “I can keep going.”

“Okay then, if you really can take a bit more stimulation, grab my tiddies,” Tigra purred.

“W- what?”

“Take your hands, slide them up my body, and when you reach my boobs- those round things on my chest you keep oogling at- give them a good squeeze”

“Sure, sure.” Clint began to run his hands up Tigra’s warm, furry frame. He spread out his fingers and let them run across the sides of her jiggling breasts until he could feel her hard nipples against his palms. His heartbeat hammered, and as soon as a sensual groan escaped Tigra’s lips, he knew what was coming. He squeezed her tits, and the dam of his self-control burst. “Listen, I need to get out of- I- uhh- uhhhh- UHHHH- UUUUHHHHOOHH!” Clint’s body quaked and seized with pleasure, again and again and again. Shots of hot, creamy cum erupted from his boner, soaking both his crotch and Tigra’s ass. The werecat couldn’t help but cackle mischievously as the archer began to descend from his climax. “Uhhh- uhhhhhhhhhhh…”

“You know, normally cats don’t like getting wet,” Tigra quipped. “But this… this was nice.”

“The costumes though. We got them all-”

“Messy, yeah. One might even say ‘dirty’.” Tigra wiggled her ass in Clint’s gooey lap before peeling it off as she stood up. Strands of Clint’s jizz still hung between his crotch and her posterior, until she swiftly cut through them with her tail. “Don’t worry about it too much. We’ve got rich friends, and some of them owe me a few favors. Nevertheless… I’ll help clean up...” Tigra got down on her knees and lowered her face towards Clint’s crotch. She extended her tongue and began lapping up his cum like a housecat drinking milk. Every so often, she’d stop to gulp it down before resuming. Eventually, she’d licked up every drop that hadn’t completely seeped into the fabric of his suit. Tigra then dragged her tongue along Clint’s flaccid penis, up his belly and chest, and under and up his chin, before plunging it into his mouth for a salty, sloppy French kiss.

When their lips finally parted, Tigra hopped up onto the bed and stuck her spooge-splattered butt into Clint’s face. “Your turn, sharpshooter.”

“Greer, I am *not* doing that,” Clint said with a smile that suggested otherwise.

“You will if you ever want to see me naked again.”

“Fine. But I better not get a hairball from this…” Clint murmured as he slowly leaned forward to lick his own cum off of Tigra’s fuzzy ass cheeks.


End file.
